Physical appearanceEye color: BlueHair color: Light BrownUnique traits: Tattoo on the right of his chest. Distorted by a laser burn running across the right hand side of his chest and neck.Face used: Christian CookeImage:Likes: People, Dogs, Driving, and going down to the pub. Likes to hang out with the lads from UNIT. The Doctor. Good food. Motorbike Racing.Dislikes: Sontarans, hostile aliens, training, cats, bad beer and needles.Strengths: Shooting, and military maneuvers. Running, and general fitness. Fairly intelligent.Weaknesses: Stubborn. Can be stupidly obedient. Dull witted. (It looks like a baked potato)Hopes: To become a UNIT officer, or commander.Fears: Sontarans. Death. Disappointing his Father, and Family.Random facts: He loves to help people. He has a dog called Beau. His favorite colour is red.Skills: Shooting. military maneuvers, driving and as a military escort. Motorbike.Overall personality: Ross is a generally fun loving guy, who just wants to help, sometimes he doesn't think before he opens his mouth, but does say and do some worthwhile stuff. He's not easily shocked and can keep his cool even when being insulted, or faced with new and dangerous things and species.

HistoryPlace of birth: Greater London Area. UK. Earth.Currently living in: Cardiff.Family: (name, age, how they’re related, alive/dead, relationship) Sgt. Jason Paul Jenkins. 49, Father, Alive. Estranged.Sgt. Paul Jenkins. 24. Brother. Alive. Close.Nicole Louise Jenkins. 46. Mother. Dead. (Were) Close. Occupation: Private in UNITMarital status: Single.Transportation: UNIT Jeep, or his own Motorbike.History:He grew up with his Mother and Brother, in a weird sort of Army Family was. His mother was a nurse, his father was an UNIT Sgt. and they lived on an UNIT base, constantly moving round from barrack to barrack. His mother wanted to settle down and took his brother to live with her parents when he was ten. Then he lived a life distant from any kids his own age, living by protocols, schedules, and an army life. He was recruited as gifted young man at aged 15 into UNIT, and began training, to be commissioned as a fully working field solider aged 18. He yearns for his fathers approval, but has never got it, and despises his father for denying him to see his mother in the final years of her life before she died in a car crash. He meet up with the doctor and was shot by a Sontaran and presumed dead. He was pulled out of the ATMOS factory by a man from another unit of UNIT and was revived, suffering a major burn and severe scaring to his upper torso. No one can explain his survival beyond a bad shot and pure chance and luck. He is the last surviving of the Greyhound unit, and is know as Hound by fellow UNIT privates. He has been moved to Cardiff for a temporary desk job to give him time to recover.

OtherProve you read the rules:Mod Edit: Proven.Role play sample: (must be at least 200 words)[/quote]He could hear those boots beating closer, military step, a whole unit as one. Clank. Clank. Clank. Those black eyes, the shriveled skin, Sontarans The red shot, his team down, pain. Black.

Ross woke with a start. For the last month since he had woken in a UNIT field hospital being pumped full of Morphine and restrained as the skin on his chest was graphed back together. Now he was in Wales of all places. He lay on his back, looking at the ceiling of the cramped new flat. A change from barracks, but worse in his opinion. It was damp, and downstairs there was a grouchy old lady with a million and one cats. He shuddered, not sure himself if it was because of the cats, or his nightmare. He rolled on his side, trying to ignore the squeal of bed springs, or the way his chest was constricted and tight, the sting as he breathed. The doctors said it should improve, but it hadn't so far. In fact, he was pretty sure it was getting worse.

The rain was beating on the cheap double glazing with some vigor, and his wall clock read 5 am. Normally a waking hour for him. Up and into uniform, polishing boots and making beds, all his life it had been like this, and now he was lying here watching the seconds tick by. He jumped up with a snarl, attracting little attention from the doberman lying faithfully at the end of his bed. He quickly changed from his shorts and tee-shirt into joggers, a plain white tee, and a jacket, maybe he could take his mind off it with a jog. He whistled to the dog as he opened the door. "Beau." He said quietly, not wanting to wake his neighbors up, he watched as the dog bounded down the stairs, closing the door with a soft thud, flinching as he heard the familiar sound of falling plaster. "Such is the reward of being shot for your Planet by a potato." He muttered to himself, shaking his head.

By 7 am he had returned, soaked to the skin, with a wet dog, which had got to a bus shelter and refused to move at around 6 am and so had to be carried back to the tiny flat, so much for not straining his arm. It had done nothing to distract him, and now he was more restless then before as he prepared himself for what he dreaded to think of. The first day at the office he shuddered. Two months before he could return to active duty. A duty that was the only thing he knew. Sontarans hadn't killed him, but maybe, just maybe paperwork would.

((This is mainly based off assumptions, random guesses, Tardis wiki, and stabs in the dark. I gave him the actors birthday and age btw it's easier then making him one. Please let me revive Ross…))